This and That
by Shelbie's Whatchamacallit
Summary: Brothers, Killers, Saints, and they had long since redefined what the word 'family' meant to her. One-Shot. Rating's the same as always, for the same reasons.


**This and That**

_I know what you're thinking. You're most likely thinking, "Dear God Jesus, here she is again with another BDS one-shot." (Especially if you're one of those who only likes "We All Move In Circles") And to that I say: "Sorry, because, for lack of a better adage, once you pop you just can't stop". I really opened the can of worms when I did "Revelations". That said, if you're not thinking that, good on ya I suppose. :) Anyway, this will likely be the last for awhile, and this one theoretically happens somewhere between "Proverb" and "Revelations". I didn't manage to come up with a biblical title, because "This and That" just stuck too well. That's exactly what it is. Just things I wanted to talk about, but never got around to. It started as me feeling like the only way we really got to look at Eve was through Connor's eyes, and I wanted to try it from her perspective, and then I wanted to have her and Murphy get a little time together, and then I wanted to discuss their new sort of "family dynamics". The end result is this. And me thinking that I need to stay off Netflix for awhile. Every time I see a good movie, I end up writing something. Not always Boondock, thank goodness. You guys would be swamped. There you have it, you know the drill by now. Genesis, Lamentations, and Revelations are recommended but not required. :)_

_P.S: I recently read that Sean Patrick Flanery's contract says extras can't look him in the eye. Anyone know what the hell that's about?_

* * *

Connor was drunk. Eve could tell the second he was knocking on her door, and it had to be him, as it was probably around three in the morning. He only ever turned up on her doorstep alone when he was already significantly far-gone. Though, she'd never really seen it in a negative light, as he came over plenty when he was sober as well, he just usually brought Murphy along, because he was still a bit shy about… well, everything. But when he'd had a few, he always seemed to meander to her door and ask if he could sleep over, sometimes apologizing profusely and spending the whole time jittery on her couch, sometimes just giving her a sloppy kiss and passing out on her bed, fully dressed. He barely managed kissing her when people were around otherwise. She didn't mind. She liked having a secret that always seemed on the verge of being discovered, it made life exciting.

She peeked out the peephole first, just to check, as Marianne had always taught her to do, and was nearly shocked off her feet to see it was Murphy standing at her apartment door.

"Murphy? What's up?" She asked, pulling the door open hurriedly. He made a motion as though to step in, but stopped before he'd even lifted his foot.

"Sorry," He said, for no adequate reason.

"What's wrong?" Her first thought was that Connor was hurt, maybe even dead, and her heart clenched in an icy vice. But she tried not to assume the worst. "Murphy?"

He gave his head a strong shake, and looked at her with a weak smile. "Sorry Kit, I di'n't mean t'wake y'up a' the crack o' dawn."

"It's okay, I'm an insomniac anyways," She replied, which was true. Her late nights had never actually had much to do with nightmares, as Connor and Marianne had hypothesized, she just couldn't sleep. Figuring the other reason he might have come here was because _he_ was hurt or upset, she asked, "Are you okay Murphy? Do you want to come in for a bit?"

"Y'mind?"

"Of course not. Come on then, you want something to drink?"

"Wha' y'got ?"

"Coffee, juice, mint tea, soda…" Eve stopped when he looked at her dubiously. "Ah. You meant alcoholic. In that case I've got some beer, and maybe some wine lying around. You have a preference?"

"Beer."

Silly of her to ask, she supposed.

Murphy had sucked down two bottles of cheap Miller, making faces and commenting on American beer all the while, smoked a cigarette whilst leaning out of her kitchen window, and helped her pick through leftover Chinese take-out before he finally started talking about why he was there.

"Conn' don' know I'm 'ere." His voice was quiet, eyeing some egg foo yung, trying to decide if he wanted to risk putting it in his mouth she supposed. She stabbed a potsticker on her fork.

"It's not like he'll get mad about it Murphy."

"'E's worried 'bout ya all the fuckin' time, y'know. Can' go more'n ten minutes wit'out wonderin' 'bout wha' yer up to or some such thin'." Murphy's eyes were fixed on the table. "Conn's fuckin' obsessed."

"Christ Murphy, you're making him sound like a stalker," Eve observed with a light smile.

"Sorry, no' 'ow I meant't," He apologized quickly, and looked up earnestly. Something about Murphy had always struck Eve as shyness. He was the quiet, reserved one -while Connor was the occasionally obnoxious, attention-grabbing one- but almost always the first one to pick a physical fight, even though he was skinny as all hell. He probably weighed less than her soaking wet. She supposed it was how cute he could be when he was nervous, he had childish habits to quell anxiety, like biting his fingernails. It made him seem much younger than he really was.

"I know. I'm only teasing you." Eve patted his hand lightly while she laughed. Murphy gave a thinnish smile, trying to look happier than he was. "Really, what's wrong Murph'? You can tell me."

"Tha's the firs' time y'ever called me 'Murph'," He commented absently.

"Well, you never call me by my proper name, so I supposed I ought to return the favor." She shrugged. "You want another beer?"

"Aye." She rose from her chair at the kitchen table and grabbed him another, popping the cap off with the bottle opener magnet on her fridge, and set it in front of him.

"You have to tell me sooner or later," She added, folding herself back into her chair. She had always liked to be scrunched up, rather than stretched out. She even had a tendency to sleep in the fetal position, usually curled around her cat Lómhara.

As it had turned out, after about three years of her not even noticing, Ollmhór was actually a female cat. A female cat whom she'd come home one day to discover had given her a litter of six identical grey kittens to contend with. She'd kept one, Lómhara, whom she'd named 'Precious' in Irish, just to pay tribute to the little hellion's mommy, and the rest she had given away to her old neighbors, and one to the elderly lady across the street, who had often pined about needing something to take care of, and always commented on what a lovely cat Ollmhór had been. On the other hand, she had no idea where the little tiger was at the moment. Probably off stalking some unsuspecting leaf through the yard of the apartment building.

Murphy took a sip off the beer, and finally said: "Yer serious abou' me brother, righ'?"

Eve sort of reeled in mild shock for a moment. Of course she was serious. She'd never been anything but serious when it came to the way she felt about Connor. For Christ's sake, she hadn't done the deed in eight-going-on-nine _years_, just because, honestly, the idea of sex with anyone but Connor scared the living hell out of her at this point. While there were plenty of people, men, who were nice to Eve, her past would never let her forget what it was like to be held down and violated. Connor was the only one she was really capable of believing wouldn't do that. And Murphy of course. But she got the feeling the he would never lay more than a brotherly kiss on the cheek on her.

"Murphy, of course I'm serious. I love Connor. I sort of…always have I guess."

"Sorry." He'd been saying that every other sentence since he'd arrived it seemed. "It's jus'…I dunno. S'weird."

"You guys are so used to always being around each other," Eve reasoned, clearly making up her psychology as she went. "It's probably weird for both of you, how he's not always with you all of a sudden. So you want to make sure I'm the right girl for him, right?"

" Bu' y'are. S'then…it's off t'chapel wit' the two o' ya, an' then ye'll be havin' a bunch o' kids, eh?" He sounded perfectly miserable at the idea.

"No, of course not. Murphy, you know we would never leave you, together or otherwise. Connor will never leave you on your own like that." It was breaking Eve's heart that he could even think such a thing. She had known, since day one, that to be in love with one of the MacManus twins, you had to love the other as well. They were a joint package, a double deal, fish and fucking chips.

And Shakespeare she clearly was not.

"I love the both of you, Murphy," Eve continued, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder. "If you feel like Connor spends too much time with me, just tell him. I'll understand, so will he. I mean, you guys are brothers, twins, and I'm-"

"T'love o' m'brother's life," Murphy piped up for her.

"You think so?" It gave her a pleasant little heart-flutter to know he thought so.

"Aye." Murphy rose to lean out the window and have another cig. "He migh' make a total arse outta 'imself mos' o' t'time, bu' 'e's dead-sincere when't comes t'ye. Everythin's straigh' from t'heart."

"I don't think he makes an ass out of himself all the time. I think Connor is very sweet."

"Well, y'wouldn' would ye?"

"Valid," Eve acknowledged. Murphy grinned at her around his cigarette. "Truth be told," she added, dumping what was left of the Chinese into the trash can, seeing as Murphy had picked out all the good stuff and it was getting on in age anyway, "-if there's ever going to be any 'going to the chapel', it'll be a long way off. I haven't even gotten Connor to sleep in anything less than his jeans and t-shirt."

"Aye. No playin' paddy-fingers in the holy water when yer datin' a real Irishman."

"What?"

"Sorry. S'froma John Wayne movie. Y'know 'ow Connor likes 'is movies."

"Yeah." Eve nodded, smiling. The first night he'd stayed over, she'd woken up the next morning to find he'd been up hours before her, watching her collection of Quentin Tarantino movies. She'd always loved 'Kill Bill', and it seemed to have worked its way into Connor's heart as well. Thinking of "The Bride", Eve remembered something she'd been meaning to bring up, but so far, had lacked the bravery to do so.

"Murphy, can I ask you something kind of weird? Something kind of…personal?"

"I don' see why no'…" But he looked hesitant as he stared over his shoulder at her.

"It's uhm…do you happen to know if Connor wants kids?" She just came out with it, knowing it would do no good to drop hints. The Irish were not a subtle people in her experience, and she doubted Murphy MacManus would prove an exception to this.

Murphy dropped his cigarette, cursed, picked it up, but then just held it awkwardly. "I though' y'said y'ain't gotten in Connor's pants ye'," Was his incredulous response.

"I haven't. I'm just…curious, you know, for future reference and stuff."

"Tha's puttin' the cart b'fore the horse, don'cha think?"

"Well…I just wanted to know, because I sort of-"

"Don' wan' to?" Murphy guessed, puffing away on the cigarette again. "Yer still young," He concluded wisely. She was starting to feel her 'young age' was the explanation for everything between the brothers. No matter what kind of behavior she was exhibiting, they always passed it off as her just 'being young', whatever the fuck that was even supposed to mean. After all, it wasn't like they were creaky old men, and they hardly acted like they were in their thirties anyway. One of the many mysteries she supposed. "Y'shoul' wai' a few years 'fore y'decide t'ave any wee ones 'nyway. Y'know, jus' t'make sure s'all…settled then."

Of course, by that, Murphy meant that they might all be dead in a few years time. He wanted to wait till it was all over. But when, or how, could something like killing the evil men in the world ever end? There was always some new crime-lord, drug-dealer, murderer, or rapist they always had to go after. Was it even possible for such a mission to end? And that was just Boston. What about everywhere else?

"Murphy…I can't have children."

"Whaddya mean?" His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Eve traced a circular burn mark in the table, left by a too-hot coffee cup, staring at her finger following the off-colored wood. "I can't ever have kids."

"Why?"

"Because of what happened to me. Before you and Connor. I'm just…all messed up." She waggled a vague finger at her stomach, generally indicating.

"Christ…Kit, I di'n't know." Murphy, now seeming out of the mood to finish his cigarette, stubbed it out in the ceramic candy dish Eve had set by the window for the boys to use as an ashtray when they were over. "I prob'ly jus' sounded like a total asshole, huh?"

"No. It's okay Murphy. But I…I haven't told Connor." Murphy left the window, and stood by her chair for an awkward space of a few seconds, before gathering her up in his arms in a tight hug.

"S'okay Kit. Conn's no' gonna be mad. T'ain't gonna change a thin'." Eve snuggled into Murphy's arm, just needing that. She hadn't wanted to say it, but she had needed someone to hug her and tell her that the fact her reproductive organs were less than functional wouldn't be the end of what was looking like a pleasant relationship. The thought had been haunting her for days now, not because she and Connor were getting it on like Easter bunnies, not even close, but because what if he did want kids?

What if, when he finally decided the calling was over for him, whenever and whatever the chances of that may be, Connor wanted to settle down somewhere and have twins of his own to baby and love and cherish? How was she supposed crush that dream? How could she say she couldn't do that, just because of some dirt bag what may as well have been a million years ago?

"Y'wanna…y'wanna talk abou' it r'somethin'?" Murphy asked, and she glanced up to see him looking at the wall intently.

"Girl's issues aren't something you deal with a lot, huh?" She guessed.

"No' these kinda issues. Tha's fer damn sure," Murphy nodded, something between a smile and a grimace on his face. "Bu' I can try, Kit. Who did't t'ya?"

"You know, I could have just been born defective," Eve pointed out, though she of all people knew why he would automatically jump to it being someone else's fault.

"Nah. Yer too damn pretty t'ave been born defective." Murphy let go of Eve to sit in the chair next to her, firing up yet another cigarette. She didn't bother to tell him to go to the window, just pushed an empty beer bottle over to make a temporary ashtray.

"It's kind of a miracle I wasn't. Mama did crack for a lot of years, before and after me. That's why they started moving me, cuz she couldn't kick her habit. She really was just an awful person."

"She was yer Ma," Murphy offered, though she wasn't sure what that was really supposed to mean. Sure, Mama, who's name no one had ever bothered to tell her, had given birth to her, but that was about all she had done as a parent to Eve. She was nothing but a blurry face, blue eyes, and curly blonde hair. That was the only thing she'd ever known of her birth mother. And the crying. It seemed like she had always been crying, every time she had looked at her. The very last time Eve had been with her, Mama had been brushing her stubby ponytails, dressing her in little denim overalls, then telling her she had to go away for awhile, and that was that. She never saw Mama again.

Now that Eve looked back on it, she thought that she might have better liked her chances with a crack-head mother who ignored her as opposed to the pedophilic 'secure families' Child Services had spent the next thirteen years of her life shuffling her around in, that paid way too much attention to her, in all the wrong ways. The sad part was, she was fairly certain some of those sickos were still on the list of foster parents. Child Services never had and probably never would learn.

"She wasn't my mother. I don't even remember her all that well. Just a lot of crying and a lot of drugs and people taking me away. And then I worked my way over to Boston, and here I sit."

"Y'can share r'Ma," Murphy suggested, smiling at her in a cheeky fashion. "She was always tellin' me'n Conn' tha' she wished she'da 'ad a girl. Threatened t'trade us in fer one a coupla times. I be' she'd like ya too. Which is jus' as well, seein' as yer sorta datin' 'er son. I kinda always wanted a li'l sister too."

"Doesn't that almost make me and Connor sound like incest?"

"Nah. I won' start callin' ye 'Sis' till yer all lovey-dovey an' shit, 'ow 'bout tha'?"

"Alright. That might be okay," Eve nodded with a laugh, she reached over and took the last beer Murphy had started in on, holding the half-empty bottle to the ceiling. "Well, cheers to my favorite older brother then."

"I'ma be t'bes' ol'er brother y'ever 'ad Kit."

"Considering the kind of foster siblings I've had, you're not going to have to try very hard." Eve took a sip of the beer, and gave him a friendly bump on the arm with her elbow. "Y'wanna take your twin's spot on the couch Murph'? Cuz I'm beat and I kinda want to get some sleep."

"Yeah, course. Sorry, y'coulda tol' me t'shut up," Murphy apologized, looking sheepish, which quickly switched over to confusion. "Y'make 'im sleep on the couch?"

"C'mon Murphy, you and I both know I can't make Connor do _anything. _I'm just along for the ride most of the time."

Murphy gave a good natured chuckle and gave her a hug and a kiss on the head, telling her she'd best get to bed while he had another cigarette. It was a wonder his lungs were still in such good health. He gave a whole new definition to the term 'chain-smoker'. Connor smoked a lot too, but usually not as often as Murphy, he managed to make a pack last at least a day most of the time.

* * *

Just as Eve crawled back into bed, her phone started ringing on the bed side table; and it had better be Connor wondering where Murphy was. Anyone else for any other reason was going get their heads bitten off for having the audacity to call her at four in the fucking morning.

She grabbed the phone from the table, and pressed it to the ear not buried in her pillow.

"Hello?"

"Sorry Evey, I know i's late…bu' y'suppose I coul' come over? I'm…I'm actually standin' on t'corner."

Eve smiled into the pillow. Poor Connor just didn't know what to do with himself when he was alone, he didn't deal with it all that well. She vaguely wondered if Murphy was the same way, and only put on a brave face for Connor's sake. Could explain why he had turned up this morning if that was the case.

"Of course you can come over. But you have to be quiet, and sleep with me. Murphy's on the couch," Eve said, getting out of bed for what felt like the millionth time, but was really only the second, to unlock her door again for him.

"Murph's there?" It wasn't suspicion or jealousy, for obvious reasons, just curiosity, maybe with a hint of concern. Probably for Murphy rather than her, as he knew she would tell him if there was something bothering her. Actually he had made her swear several times she'd call him first if there was ever anything wrong, but, all the same.

"Mhm. We had some bonding time," She shifted to a whisper, doubting Murphy would be asleep already, but not wanting to disturb him unnecessarily anyway. "Doors unlocked, so whenever you're ready."

"Aye. Sorry fer wakin' y'up again." He sounded more nervous than apologetic.

"It's okay Connor. My door is always open for either or both of the MacManus brothers."

Ten minutes later, Eve was attempting to drift off again, and the other side of her mattress was sinking with Connor's weight. Deciding to hazard a peek, she craned her neck to look over her shoulder. He was laying on his back, on top of the comforter, eyes on the ceiling.

With no shirt. Yummy.

It took a colossal effort to tear her eyes off his stomach long enough to focus on his face, the dark shadows in the room obscuring his expression.

"You finally decide you're brave enough to sleep without your shirt on and you want to be on top of the blankets? You're going to freeze to death Connor."

"Got blood on't. Di'n't want t'get any on yer sheets." He shrugged as he spoke.

"Did you get in a fight?" She asked, rolling to her stomach and propping herself up on her elbows. Murphy had been relatively blood-free, as far as she could tell.

"Aye. After Murph' left," He answered, whilst she reached over for the lamp on her bedside table, after a few tries, she got a hold of it well enough to turn it on. Connor's lip was purple, nose still a bit bloody, though it looked like he had tried to clean it up, and a nasty cut just above his eyebrow.

"Christ, who did you get in a fight with? Muhammad Ali? Do you want some ice or something?"

"Nah. S'alrigh'. T'was a matter o' odds. There were two o' them, an' one'a me, an' I fergot Murph' wa'n't t'ere t'back me up. Though…y'are t'best doctor I know."

"See? Grey's Anatomy isn't so bad," She said with a smile. "Can I at least get some disinfectant on you? I don't want your pretty face getting all gangrene-y or anything."

"Don' see why no', can' be too pretty righ' now tho'."

"You're always pretty. And also manly," Eve quickly added, seeing him about to protest. She got up, again, pretty much just resigning herself to not sleeping tonight, as she knew as soon as she finished doctoring Connor up, her insomnia would probably kick in again. She snuck around Murphy, now curled up and breathing lightly on the couch, only the top of his head visible, the rest of him cuddled into the blanket, to get peroxide and cotton balls from her bathroom, as well as a Band-Aid for the cut on his forehead.

Connor was in the window when she came back, smoking. He tossed it and sat on the end of the bed when she nodded for him to do so, soaking one of the cotton balls with peroxide.

"You know how many bottles of this stuff I go through on you guys?" Eve questioned absently, patting gingerly at the bloody part of his lip.

"I think I'd rat'er no' know. Seein' as I'ma pile o' walkin' scar tissue." She nodded at him somewhat solemnly. It was true, you were lucky to find an inch of skin on either MacManus twin that hadn't been stabbed, shot, burned, or otherwise abused. The parts that weren't were mostly already taken by tattoos. They were tough little sons-of-bitches in the purest sense of the phrase.

"What were you fighting about?" She changed the subject, not wanting to dwell on how often one or both of them was hurt.

"Teague was talkin' shit abou' ya."

"How could he have been talking shit about me? I don't even know who Teague is," Eve said, dropping the now pinkish cotton ball into the trash, preparing another for his forehead.

"'E 'eard where y'work. Called ya a coupla names I'd rat'er no' repeat, an' insinuated 'alf o' Boston's seen yer tits. I cracked 'is 'ead on t'fuckin' bar an' tol' 'im where 'e coul' take 'is damn dirty mouth. Course, di'n't really count on 'is frien' no' likin' tha'."

Eve frowned lightly, while Connor gave her a bravado shrug. "Connor…You do realize I'm a stripper right? Half of Boston probably has seen my tits."

"Don' mean Teague an' his shitey-bastard frien' can go 'round callin' ya a slut an' me n'idiot," Connor said, frowning as well, and not making eye contact. "Said I'd 'ave t'be stupid t'think y'weren' cheatin' on me."

"You know that's not true, so why does it matter what this Teague guy says?"

"I don' like people callin' y'names." His tone was clipped. "I don' like people goin' 'roun' sayin' yer a stripper cuz y'like everybody oglin' ya. I don' wanna 'ear 'bout 'ow many people getta see ya naked, an' I sure as hell ain't gonna listen t'anyone sayin' y'slept wit' other men when I know fer damn sure ye 'aven't."

"So what? Are you going to try and kick the shit out of everyone who's ever going to say that?"

"I will if ye wan' me too." Connor spoke with complete honesty, fully ready to start kicking ass and taking names. It was enough to bring a little burning to her eyes and make her fall just a little more in love with him. Which she hadn't thought to be possible. "Yer m'girl Evey. I'd break a whole lotta faces if tha's wha' needs t'appen."

"That's okay." Eve shook her head, dabbing tenderly at his forehead, just for something to focus on, to distract her from the urge to latch onto Connor and never let go. Some part of her was never more than one bad day away from doing so. The other parts were always trying to be strong. "I don't care what anyone else thinks of me. If you can take me as I am, I'll be okay."

"I'll take ye any which way y'wan' me to." Connor tried to grin, but wound up wincing because of his lip. They both knew he was just turning the boyish charm back on to avoid having a legitimate, serious conversation about where in the hell this relationship of their's was going. There was no first comes love then comes marriage, it was just…there. And it seemed like as far as Connor was concerned, there was no going past first base.

If she had to guess, she'd say a lot of it had to do with the fact he still saw her as the frightened sixteen year-old child he had found her as, and expected her to still, at some point, grow out of her feelings for him. She didn't know how else to explain that it just wasn't going to happen.

"Connor?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

"I know. I love y'too." He set a hand on her hip, just leaving it there. She enjoyed the warmth.

In the end, Eve supposed she couldn't do much else but just do what she'd been doing for the last eight years, and be thankful that she at least got to be close to him now, got to touch him, talk to him, more or less anytime she wanted. She could be happy the rest of her life just knowing they were both alive.

"Sleep under the covers with me, okay?"

"Evey-"

"Please?" Something in his eyes softened, and he nodded.

"A'righ'. Never been one t'say no t'a lady."

"Not a lady Connor. Just a girl who's hopelessly in love."

* * *

Eve's favorite place in the world was snuggled under Connor's arm, her head tucked under his. Didn't matter where, when, or why, she was always happy right there. She felt protected, warm, and loved. She had always felt loved by the twins, platonic, parental, or otherwise. She had always been able to trust them. Listening to Connor's breathing slow into sleep, feeling the gentle rhythm of his heart in her ear, she thought of how there was only one thing left to trust him with.

"Connor…I'm not able to have a baby. I never will be." She whispered it into the darkness, half-wishing he was already asleep and hadn't heard her, half-wishing he had. She was afraid to admit she was afraid of his reaction. He shifted a bit, processing as he woke up more fully. There was a moment of silence that Eve felt like went on for hours.

"Tha's a'right'," He finally answered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We can adopt."

Content with this answer, Eve smiled into his chest, and let herself finally relax enough to sleep. Because not only did it tell her Murphy was right, it didn't change a thing, but also because it provided her with a semblance of a future with Connor. With a family.


End file.
